


Pour My Life Into a Paper Cup

by HelenaWrites



Series: Secret Journals of a Demonic Nanny [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Attempt at Humor, Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Denial of Feelings, Excessive Drinking, Gardener Aziraphale (Good Omens), Gen, Godparents Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), He/Him Pronouns For Crowley (Good Omens), Light Angst, Nanny Crowley (Good Omens), Slice of Life, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Wine Mom!Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-01-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:54:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22442146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelenaWrites/pseuds/HelenaWrites
Summary: Crowley buys a gift for baby Warlock. Fluff ensues, and a bit of angst.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley & Warlock Dowling
Series: Secret Journals of a Demonic Nanny [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1617406
Kudos: 39





	Pour My Life Into a Paper Cup

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyy, so this part is a bit less comedic than the first one, but I hope you guys like it either way. Think the vibes it gives are pretty much still the same. I really love to work with Nanny!Crowley and I do think I'll be writing more for this series. He and Warlock are just so cute together!! :) Also, I love the mixed feelings that come with their relationship. There's a bit of that here, and I'm probably going to work a lot with it in the future. I'm a slut for angst lol

Getting his demonic job done had become something of a struggle for Crowley ever since he’d started working as a nanny. Babysitting and performing temptations were two things that definitely did not go hand in hand. Warlock consumed too much of his time, and even if the little brat had given him a moment’s respite, Crowley wouldn’t have been too eager to try his hand at multitasking. At least, not in that scenario. 

He spent much too time in the Mansion to risk tainting the place with Bad Vibes, and the household staff already had it bad enough with Harriet Dowling’s foul temperament. No need to bring about the Devil’s work on top of that. 

For a demon to not be able to perform temptations is a truly unacceptable thing, of course, so Crowley had to find a way to make things work even with his limited free time. He had one day off a week, and he had made a habit of using it to cause a bit of mayhem through London. It was a rather healthy way of coping with stress, too. Being a nanny wasn’t easy, and there really is nothing more rewarding in a demon’s world than seeing humans slowly making their way towards damnification. 

Crowley had been running the usual errands in downtown Soho. His day had mostly consisted of tinkering with the wifi signals of local restaurants, misplacing a few stop signs and miracling dense layers of ice outside of parking lots. The last one had resulted in three slips and seven falls, exactly, each more hilarious than the last. All in all, it was a very productive day. 

Later that evening he was going to meet with Aziraphale. They’d started seeing a lot more of each other, since the beginning of their little enterprise. Attempting to stop the Apocalypse together does tent to bring people closer, after all. There was nothing more to it than comparing notes, of course, but they both were much too used to human pleasantries by now and Crowley didn’t think it would be out of place to bring a little something with him. To sweeten the deal and all that. 

So he made a quick stop on his way to the bookshop to get a bottle of wine. That one brand that always made Aziraphale hum with satisfaction when he opened the shopping bags. The market was pretty quiet. Crowley’s cashier was a twenty-something chick with a dead look on her eyes and a very bad contouring. He nodded at her, and put the bottle on the counter. 

“Can I do something else for you?”

“Ehhh, I’ll have that Monster energy drink, a Classic Cars Illustrated, some of that gum…” It was then that Crowley noticed the toy, sitting on the other side of the showcase. A stuffed octopus - tiny and purple, and with funny bulging eyes. It almost seemed to be staring back at him, although that was probably just his imagination. Crowley had lots of that to spare. 

“And, uh, that thing.”

“What thing?” The cashier asked, sounding annoyed. Crowley blushed, not entirely sure of the reason but feeling the flush hot and awkward on his cheeks. 

“Ngk, y’know, _that stuff_ \- the one with the stripes.”

The girl gave him a strange look. Crowley scrunched his nose, feeling a bit silly. He knew he didn’t look the type to be buying stuffed animals, especially when out of his nanny uniform. The leather jacket and the dark sunglasses, added to that old school rockstar flair gave people the weirdest ideas about Crowley and he knew it. It was a quite intentional aesthetic, actually, so he knew he had no right to complain. Still, he could do without the stares.

He made a haste of paying then, and asked for a black shopping bag before leaving. Better not to have people peering in his purchases. 

* * *

He arrived at Aziraphale’s bookshop around eight o’clock. They exchanged their impressions on Warlock so far, which weren’t all that many, given that he was a newborn. It seemed important to keep count of the details, though, especially on the early stages of their enterprise. As he was just a gardener, Aziraphale didn’t see much of the boy, so perhaps it would be more correct to say that whenever they met a debriefing took place, rather than an exchange. A short, concise debriefing, which was usually followed by some healthy amounts of alcohol. 

Aziraphale didn’t seem to mind. It wasn’t probable for him to become a predominant figure in Warlock’s life until the boy was old enough to go to the gardens alone, and he was very much pleased with that arrangement. He loved all of God’s creations equally, of course, but human babies were definitely not his favorite. He’d rather stay away from all the crying and the germs. 

There was not a lot to debrief that evening. As far as Crowley could tell, Warlock was a fairly normal child. He liked biting remote controls and playing with house keys. His favorite color was red, and he could watch The Adventures of Elmo in Grouchland about a thousand times without getting bored. When he yawned he sounded like a kitten mewing.

As far as personality went, Crowley was yet to find any trace of evilness in Warlock. Probably the most diabolical thing he had ever seen him do was mangling his mother’s collection of Vogue Magazines, which isn’t very high as far as Evil charts go. Some might even take it as an act of benevolence.

He was a clingy, high maintenance boy, though. He got overwhelmed easily and couldn’t stand loud noises. He got upset when he was put down, and cried whenever Crowley left the room. Sometimes he laughed at the trees, which was a little weird but not overly concerning. It was better than in the first few days when he cried like a banshee just at the sight of Crowley, so the demon counted himself lucky.

“I see… well, I wouldn’t worry too much. He’s just a baby, after all. He should start to show a few signs of his true inheritance soon enough.” Aziraphale said, reaching towards the bottle Crowley had brought with palpable pleasure. “Anything else you’d like to add, dear boy?”

Crowley thought about it for a second. “He smells weird.”

“Pardon?”

“The baby. He smells weird.” He said, closing his notepad with a light tud. “Like green apples and rain.”

Crowley had a prodigious sense of smell. It’s the sort of thing that comes with being a former Serpent of Eden. That and an unusually large tongue. He could usually tell whenever an acquaintance was close just by closing his eyes and sniffing the air. Whenever Crowley held Warlock he could feel the boy’s scent surrounding him, strong and unfading, yet sort of pleasant. 

Perhaps it was an odd thing to say, thought. Aziraphale was giving him a very funny look. “Oh. Well, I hardly think that’s a reason for concern.”

“Not saying it is. It’s just, uh, kinda interesting, isn’t?”

“Of course, dear boy.” Aziraphale said as he poured a drink for each of them, ending the conversation for good.

* * *

The next day Crowley woke up laying on the carpet of the bookshop, curling around a bottle of whiskey and a bright-colored decorative pillow. He cursed himself, covering his eyes from the burning light coming through the windows. 

He and Aziraphale had a long record of losing perspective, when it came to alcohol intake. It all had started back in Rome, with that first invitation for oysters, and since then things had only gone downhill for his corporation’s liver. Perhaps he ought to start attending the local A.A. meetings. Sober up. Turn his life around. Not that the angel was exempt of guilt, mind you. Crowley had half a mind of dragging him along. 

After finishing the bottle of wine he could remember almost nothing of the night before, which was a bit concerning. It seemed this time things had gotten to the point he’d been unable to sober up afterwards. This was, of course, not a first time occurrence, but he’d rather not make a habit of it. In his demonic opinion, hangovers were the worse penitence She had ever inflicted on mankind, right after childbirth and menstrual cramps. 

He stood up in unsteady legs and snapped his fingers, making a quick job of ridding himself from the last effects of alcohol. Crowley signed in relief. Then he looked down at his wrist clock, and felt the hangover be quickly replaced by deep sense of dread. _Oh, smite me._

Crowley sprinted through the bookshop in search for his belongings, knocking down a few things in the process. Aziraphale, who was soundly asleep on the couch, was quickly awoken by the commotion. He stared at the clock and frowned. “Crowley! What in Heaven’s name are you doing? Do you know what time it is?” He asked, sounding irritated in that prim, proper way Crowley knew so well.

“I’m late.” He said, snapping his fingers to miracle his closet in the back room of the bookshop. He took out his nanny uniform, some matching high heels and a silly cloche hat that seemed more fitting for an old lady. 

“What?”

“I’m _fucking late_ , I tell ya! The antichrist is not going to take care of itself!” 

“Oh. _Oh_. ” Aziraphale said, seeming to finally come to his senses. “But how silly of me! Shouldn’t have let you drink so much, let alone stay the night.” 

“Yeah, well. What’s done Is done.” Crowley grunted, struggling to get into his skirt. Why he thought it would be a good idea to play a traditional Scottish nanny was beyond him at the moment. Just getting ready in the morning was a bother. 

“Do you need help with that?” Aziraphale asked, noticing Crowley’s ensuing battle with the pantyhose. It was a good thing he had nothing down there. It’d have been sort of awkward otherwise, for a number of reasons. 

“Nah, just hand me those bags and I’ll be on my way.” He said, walking towards the mirror to get his hair done. It looked wild and frizzled from a night spent on the floor, but nothing a few pins here and there wouldn’t fix. Crowley was in the process of undoing a particularly troublesome knot when he remembered what else was in the bags besides his regular purchases, and cursed himself for the second time that morning. “Angel, _wait_ -”

“What’s this for?” Aziraphale asked, holding out the stuffed octopus Crowley had gotten at the store yesterday. 

“Ah, had forgotten about that.” Crowley made a face and turned towards the mirror again, trying to feign nonchalance. “Just a gift, that’s all.”

“A gift. For Warlock.” It was not a question. Aziraphale was giving him that funny look again. Crowley couldn’t decide whether it was disapproval or worry. 

“Yeah, who else?” He said, putting on his hat and taking the toy from Aziraphale’s hands. The angel let him, but quickly put a hand on his shoulder to keep him from walking away. Crowley frowned. 

“Listen, dear. I’ve always known you to have a sort of, well, a _soft spot_ for children.” Aziraphale said. Every muscle in Crowley’s body tensed. He took a deep breath, fighting off the sudden need to slam the angel against the wall. He was a demon, for Hell’s sake! He was not soft for children. 

“But this boy, _this boy_ is really not someone you want to get attached to, Crowley. He might seem all lovely and harmless now, but-”

“Who said anything about attachment? It’s just a toy, angel. Don’t blow things out of proportion!” Crowley said. He shrugged off Aziraphale’s hand.

The angel looked like he wanted to say something else, but he decided to stay quiet at the last minute. He knew better than anyone how Crowley could get, when nice things were said about him. 

Aziraphale handed Crowley his shopping backs, walked him to the door and fused a bit about the bow of his uniform before letting him leave. Crowley wanted to smile at that, but found himself unable to. As he made his way to the Dowling Mansion, he was chased by the feeling that he had done something wrong, and not in the way he usually liked. 

But when he got to work, he leaned over the crib and handed Warlock his present, either way. The baby’s eyes lit up at the sight of it, and he laughed in that dazzling, guileless way he’d picked up not too long ago. The feeling of wrongness dissipated, and was replaced by another much different that Crowley was afraid to look at too closely. He left Warlock to it, and went about to prepare the first milk bottle of the day. 

It was just a toy, anyway. No need to read so much into it.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked the reading! If ya wanna rant about Good Omens or the Ineffable Husbands you can follow me on tumblr as @helenakey :)


End file.
